Alcohol
by Debwood-1999
Summary: A drunk bet gone wrong hammers home the reason why Phil doesn't drink. Happy Holidays!


**NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR: The bet-gone-wrong/cross-dress scene was inspired by the one-shot called Pretty Problems, which is written by Damaged Dementia/Seraphalexiel, and can be found in her work called Hot One Shots. **

_**Alcohol**_

**Loosely inspired by the song "Walkin' "Round In Women's Underwear" by Bob Rivers and Twisted Radio, as well as the song "Alcohol" by Brad Paisley, and Pretty Problems (a Hot One Shots chapter) by ****Damaged Dementia/Seraphalexiel**.

"It's kinda chilly in here, Phil." Mark set a neatly wrapped package in my lap. "I know it's not Christmas Day yet, but I thought you could use this right now."

"Hey, thanks." I said, carefully removing the blue and silver paper and lifting the lid. My eyes widened when I saw what was nestled in the tissue paper. "Mark! I've been wanting one of these for months!" I squeaked, lifting up the yellow hoodie with the vintage Pepsi logo embroidered across the front. "How the hell did you find this?"

"Ebay had the last one," Mark said, as I slipped the hoodie on. Perfect fit, and warm enough to stave off the chill in the rec room in Matt's house. "By the way, check the pockets."

I did and squealed in delight. "No way Dude! Pepsi lip balm?"

"Just gives us another reason to make out." Mark chuckled.

I sighed and snuggled up to my life partner. Mark and I have been together for two years. Our relationship had everyone scratching their heads at first, but after a while, nobody on the roster could imagine us not being together. I could give you a laundry list of things I love about Mark, but one thing stands out in my mind above everything else. He respects my lifestyle.

I'm Straightedge. No drinking alcohol, no smoking, and no illegal drugs. I know Mark likes his alcohol, but he doesn't drink around me, which I appreciate. He talks me down when I get too self-righteous, which makes for a much more relaxed locker room. Sure, I'll extoll the virtues of being Straightedge to anyone who'll listen, but I don't shove it down everyone's throat like I used to.

Which begs the question, What's a Straightedge guy and his boyfriend doing in a den of iniquity, also known as Matt Hardy and John Morrison's Christmas party? Simple, we'd been invited. Matt and I were friends, Jeff and I used to date until he took up with Adam (still can't believe Jeff chose him over me!), and Mark knew pretty much everyone. We were practically family. The music was great, the food was always fantastic (Mor knew his way around a kitchen!) and the decorations were gorgeous. What other reasons would I need.?

Actually, there is one that I don't share with anyone, not even Mark. I like coming to these parties because it re-affirms my reasons for being Straightedge. Alcohol makes you do weird things, and when I watch some guy put a lampshade on their head or jump up on a table and dance, I laugh to myself and think, "Thank God I don't do that stuff!" As far as I'm concerned, drinking leads to DUI's, broken relationships, trips to rehab or the ER (take your pick) and all around heartache, and I want to avoid that as much as possible.

"You wanna make a phone call?"

I looked up. Shannon was holding out what looked like an old style cell phone. This game I was familiar with. The "phone" was actually full of cheap-ass vodka that got passed around from guest to guest and passed off as the expensive stuff.

I shook my head politely. "Naah, I'm good. Thanks."

Shannon shrugged. "S'cool. More for everyone else then."

I lay my head on Mark's shoulder and watched Shannon disappear into the crowd.

"Hey, Phil, " Mark whispered in my ear. "You wanna ditch this party and go somewhere more private? Perhaps you can try out that new lip gloss."

"We just got here like an hour ago. Besides, I haven't seen Matt yet. Mor said he had a special surprise for everyone."

"I'm not doing this!" I recognized Matt's voice from the outside. It was faint, but I was able to hear after craning my neck slightly.

"You have to follow through, Matty. You can't renege on a bet." That was Adam. "Now hold still, your lipstick's fading."

I cocked an eyebrow. Lipstick? This was going to be interesting.

"Why couldn't you have lost, Adam? You would have looked prettier."

"Matt, if I'd lost this bet, I'd have to go through with it, just like you. There, now it's perfect."

"How was I supposed to know that Hunter would be such a lightweight, and that Randy would drink him under the table?"

"Matt, your nose is shiny. Hold still." I recognized Jay's voice.

"Aach! Get that powder puff away from me Jay!"

"Matty, Adam insisted that I drop by and make sure you didn't back down at the last minute,"

"If you guys loved me, you wouldn't make me do this."

"I guess he doesn't," Jay laughed. "Straighten that skirt out. You're crooked." A pause. "There. You're now officially perfect."

I heard Matt huff loudly, and then I heard the door open.

Jay poked his head through the doorway and whistled sharply through his fingers to get everyone's attention. "Okay, guys!" he announced, stepping inside. "As you may or may not know, Matt lost a drunken bet last night between Hunter and Randy, and we all made the discovery that Hunter, in spite of him being the King of Kings and the Cerebral Assassin, is a lightweight. As a result, Matt's got a new outfit that he'd like to show us. So, for the benefit of those with flash photography, take pictures now!"

Everyone in the rec room cheered as Matt walked in slowly and trudged to the middle of the room, wearing a black trenchcoat that came down to his ankles. His face was flushed with embarassment, and I could see eye shadow on his lids and bright red lipstick on his lips. Adam brought up the rear, I suspect to make sure Matt didn't turn tail and run.

I glanced over at Matt, then at Mark. "I don't remember Matt being so tall."

Mark snickered. "He's not . Look what's on his feet."

I glanced down. "Holy crap! Are those stilettos?"

"I'm surprised he hasn't fallen down yet."

Then, without warning, Adam yanked Matt's coat off, and everyone busted up in laughter, wolf whistles and catcalls. I could have sworn that I saw a few digital cameras go off as well.

Poor Matt was wearing a hot pink cami top with lace and sequins up the front and sparkly spaghetti straps. The vinyl skirt barely reached mid-thigh and revealed legs encased in black fishnet stockings. His black patent stilettos had six -inch metal heels and had little gold charms on the back. Matt looked like he'd gone full bore with this; it wouldn't have surprised me if Matt was wearing a thong underneath.

Nothing positive about that visual! i thought, shaking my head to erase the mental image. Must rid head of image of Matt in a thong!

"You look lovely, dahhhling!" Shannon hollered. "You need some makeup, Buddy?"

"Shut up!"

"Wow! You pulled it off better than I thought!"

"That color pink is perfect on you!" someone else said, but I couldn't tell who because everyone was laughing so hard.

I couldn't help myself. "Oh, Matty! What that miniskirt does for that lovely ass of yours." I shouted.

"Knock it off, Punk!" Matt looked like his face was in flames.

Pretty soon Mark and I joined everyone in the mirth, and we both laughed until tears were streaming down our cheeks. "I'm sorry, Matt!" I offered in way of an apology. "It's just that I never pegged you as the type to dress in drag."

"And it's the only time you'll ever see me in drag." Matt flopped down on the couch next to us. "Of all the times I had to lose on a bet..."

"And that's why I don't drink," I said. "It just leads to people embarrassing the hell out of themselves."

"Don't get all self righteous with me now, Phil. I'm not in the mood."

"Hey Matty, I'm not getting all self righteous. Just stating a fact."

"Sorry."

Mark tapped me on the shoulder. "New arrivals, Babe."

I glanced over. Sure enough, Jeff made a fashionably late entrance (as always), and he was now throwing his arms around Adam's shoulders. "Those two are joined at the hip now, aren't they?"

"Any closer and they'd have to be surgically separated," Matt sighed.

They strolled past our couch and I could hear Jeff say, "...I was gonna wear that new cami top I got last week, but I couldn't find it anywhere. It was bright pink with lace on the front and sequins, and it had..." Jeff's voice trailed off as he caught a glimpse of his older brother. "Rhinestone spaghetti...straps..." He paused, and then snorted and busted up laughing. "Matty! I didn't think you had it in you!"

"Go away!" Matt spat, doing that glare thing he was so awesome at.

As Jeff and Adam walked away, still laughing, I turned back to Matt, who had his head in his hands.

"I'll never make another drunk bet again," he sighed.

"So, do you have to wear this all night?"

"All night." Matt glanced down at his feet. "Help me out of these shoes guys. I can tolerate a skirt and cami, but I'm drawing the line with the shoes. My feet are killing me!"

**Awww, Dammit Punk! Why'd you have to hijack this one?**

**Punk Muse: Sorry! I couldn't help myself.**

**The vodka trick was seen on one of the episodes of The Hardy Show (can't remember which one right off the top of my head) where Matt fills up a cell phone decanter full of some cheap vodka you get in the plastic bottles and passes it to his guests at his Christmas party.**

**BTW, this is the only time I'm ever going to cross-dress Matt in a fanfic.**


End file.
